Murder in Style (23 page)

‘You'll need this,' said Ellie, pushing Lesley's ring towards her.

A momentary hesitation on Lesley's part. Then she took the ring out of its bag and slid it back on to her finger. ‘How did you find it?' She didn't really want to know. Her attention was all on her phone. ‘No answer. He must have turned it off.'

‘Leave a voice message.'

‘What do I say?'

Ellie shrugged. ‘Say you're sorry. That's a good start. You can qualify it later.'

‘Like, “I'll have his guts for garters if he tries to do that to me again.” Like, “If he ever puts his family before me again, I'll kill him.”'

‘Something like that. Something to show him you care.'

Lesley whirled round. He'd answered the phone. ‘Where have you been? Where. Have. You. Been? I've been half out of my mind with worry. Are you all right? How's your knee? I can't think what got into you – into us – last night. I couldn't sleep …' She got up and moved out of the kitchen, gesticulating, restless, suddenly brought back to life. Still talking on the phone, she walked through the hall and out into the garden.

Ellie opened the kitchen window and set about clearing up the breakfast things. Fragments of conversation drifted back to her as Lesley walked to and fro. Ellie wasn't eavesdropping. It was a warm day and she needed some air.

‘… yes, of course I love you, silly! You want me to do what …? Really? Delete all your previous … Oh, come on! Did you really say … No, I know you were angry, but so was I. Yes, of course Angelica's always been indulged, I do realize that but, be realistic … no, we really can't take her in while … Yes, your job is stressful, too and … suppose …?' A genuine laugh. ‘Well, you can tell her that if she gets to destroy our future, she can pay for her own bridesmaid's dress! And I don't think she'll go for that … No, Susan's no problem nowadays. She's very snug where … What! You're going where this afternoon? But … No, I hadn't forgotten. At least, I remember that you … Are you sure? I mean, your knee won't …? All right, we'll go out to supper tonight. There's more wedding presents to … Yes, I'll cope. Of course I will …'

Then there were loving murmurs, too low for Ellie to distinguish the words.

Lesley returned, with a little colour in her cheeks, smiling. ‘Storm in a teacup. He's playing cricket today, would you believe? In spite of his knee. Someone else makes the runs for him. He's got a lift there and back, and he's telling Angelica to make other plans. So all is well.' She regarded her engagement ring with a puzzled look. ‘You know, I thought I'd thrown it out of the window, but …' She shook her head at herself. ‘A bad dream.'

‘No. You did. Mikey got it back for you, with a metal detector. It cost me sixty pounds. Think of it as an extra wedding present.' Ellie and Thomas had already given Lesley a new microwave.

‘Why, thank you, Ellie. That was nice of you.' Lesley wasn't really listening, was she?

Ellie said, ‘Lesley, I don't know what you'd think of this, but would you like to stay here till the wedding? You can see your fiancé all day and every day, but have a little pre-wedding respite. You're rather on top of one another in that tiny flat of yours …'

No, it had been the wrong thing to say. Ellie could see Lesley thinking how sweet and old-fashioned the suggestion had been. So last century, practically antediluvian, my dear!

‘But not,' said Ellie, ‘if you're happier being together all the time.'

Lesley looked amused, but tried to appear grateful. ‘What a lovely person you are, dear Ellie. So thoughtful, but really, we're so used to one another now that … and he's going to tell Angelica to stop meddling, which is a great relief. The girl's aiming to be a model and is desperate to get away from home, for which, in all honesty, I can't blame her. But it was bad enough having Susan living with us for a while and now … No, he's agreed it just wouldn't work.'

‘So you're at a loose end this morning?'

‘Sort of. Not really. I ought to do this and that, but I must say I feel like taking some time out.'

‘Thomas is out till lunchtime, which you're welcome to share with us. If I make some more coffee, could you bear to fill me in on some facts regarding the Cordovers? I think your police notebook is in the bag Angelina packed for you …?'

‘I suppose. You want me to get it? I'd sooner talk about work than write thank-you notes. I didn't think people bothered doing that nowadays, but some of the aunts …' A giant yawn. ‘Yes, why not? I'll pop up and get it.'

Ellie settled them both at the kitchen table, with a pad of paper and a pen in front of herself. ‘What day did Poppy die?'

‘Um, Thursday night? Late. She was discovered on Friday morning.'

‘Who reported it?'

Lesley leaned back, and closed her eyes. ‘I didn't sleep well last night, even though I took …' She rubbed eyes. Sipped coffee. Opened her police notebook. ‘The accountant. Charles Mornay. Stiff sort of bloke. In shock. He was working on the books, didn't have a key, was waiting for the office manageress to arrive, or someone to open up from The Magpie next door. The manageress arrived, he said she was a bit late, he went on about that, compulsive something-or-other. He said she ought to have been there dead on half past nine or something and the shop ought to have been open by then, too.'

Charles had a key now. He'd locked up yesterday when he'd taken Ellie off to meet Marge. When had he been given it? Must check. ‘I suppose he was blaming everyone else because he'd had a shock?'

‘Sounded like it. Anyway, when one of them arrived and turned the key in the door, it wouldn't open. They pushed and shoved …'

Ellie winced.

‘… and finally got the door open enough to see that Poppy's body was preventing them from getting in.'

‘Was she cold? How long did the pathologist say she'd been dead?'

‘She'd died between half past ten and half past eleven the previous night. Probably nearer half ten than half eleven.'

‘Anything else from the pathologist?'

‘You mean, poison, or an injection, or blunt-force trauma? No. Last meal was a ham sandwich, plus some coffee, some hours previously. There'd been some family rumpus or other and she hadn't bothered to eat. She'd fallen from top to bottom of the stairs, sustaining multiple injuries and breaking her neck. She died as a result of the fall.'

‘She couldn't have fallen, survived and then someone broke her neck?'

‘Her injuries were consistent with the fall.'

‘How do you know she fell from top to bottom? Did she hit the walls on either side in her fall?'

‘There was no blood on the walls. She was lying like a broken doll. No blood. But yes, a trail of destruction on the way down. The glass was broken in one picture, another had been dragged off the wall completely, and one had been tipped sideways.'

Ellie nodded. ‘Easy enough to put right.'

Lesley nodded. ‘No blood. Some glass splinters – they used a Hoover to clean up, I suppose. Oh, there was an extra mat at the bottom of the stairs which had absorbed the bodily fluids. You know what happens when people die?'

Ellie knew. The mat had been easily removed, afterwards. ‘Was the alarm on?'

‘No. We queried that. If she'd been working late by herself, she would normally have switched it on. But her sister had been there with her and, after she'd left, Poppy hadn't bothered to switch it on.'

‘Or, she was expecting someone else? Ray, the accountant, or her daughter?'

Lesley shook her head. ‘They'd all got alibis.'

‘Even Aidan?'

‘Who's Aidan?'

‘Clemmie's boyfriend.'

‘Oh, him. He was with her all night, if I remember correctly.'

‘Was the overhead light on at the top of the stairs?'

‘No. It's on a time switch, remember? If she'd switched it on to come down the stairs, it would have gone off again after sixty seconds or so. We checked.'

‘When you found her, were the lights still on in the office?'

‘Yes.'

‘How was Poppy dressed?'

‘A big white sweater, black trousers, a red silk scarf, shoes with a medium heel.'

‘Had she left a jacket upstairs? There was a pretty pink cardigan left in her office.'

‘Not big enough to go over the top she was wearing. It was a warm night. She wouldn't have needed a jacket.'

‘She'd a handbag with her?'

‘We found that on her desk upstairs. It contained keys, iPod, smartphone, cards, make-up. The usual.'

‘You say she'd gone into the office to work for some reason. With her sister. Rather late at night for that, wasn't it? What was she working on?'

‘There was nothing in particular on her desk. A petty cash book, that sort of thing.'

‘A chequebook? A big one? A company one, not one for private use?'

A puzzled stare. ‘Yes, I think … perhaps. I'd have to check. We took photos.'

‘Were you aware that a member of the family had been accused of taking some of The Magpie's business cheques and forging a signature to pay off their bills?'

‘What! Are you serious?'

‘Very.'

‘Why didn't anyone tell us that? This is crazy. How could they withhold such important information?'

‘Yes, that indeed is the question.'

It certainly was. Why had Gordon held off for so long, if he was convinced that Clemmie had stolen the money? It can only be because it gave him a hold over Juno.

Lesley was hot on the trail. ‘You think that Poppy and Juno were on to the fraud and were at the office trying to track down who the culprit might be?'

‘I think,' weighing her words, ‘that the family were having meetings about various problems that week. Ray's finances for one, and the missing cheques for another.'

‘We know Ray couldn't have killed her. Are you suggesting that the fraudster might have killed Poppy to stop his or her wrongdoing being made public?'

‘I think it's a possibility …' Would Trixie have heard that her sleight of hand had been rumbled? Would she have cared? Not much, no. Ellie said, ‘But most unlikely, given the character of the person concerned—'

‘Who is it? Tell me!'

‘—unless, perhaps, it was an accident.'

Lesley lifted both hands in the air. ‘Now we're singing the same tune. It was an accident.'

‘Only, you don't really believe that it was, and neither do I.'

Lesley sighed. No, she didn't.

Ellie looked at the clock. Time to put the lunch on. Thomas appreciated a roast lunch after he'd been taking services all Sunday morning. Ellie went to the fridge, got out the joint of lamb which she proposed to cook, and put it into the oven on a low light. What else? Roast potatoes, onions … and what vegetables did they have? A cauliflower and some carrots, perhaps? She took the potatoes to the sink to peel them.

She said, ‘Poppy and Juno were working late, possibly on the fraud, possibly on something else.'

Lesley consulted her notebook. ‘Juno went home at – let me check – about ten; no, about a quarter past. Thereabouts. She took a cab. We checked. We know that Poppy was alive after that because she came downstairs to see Juno off. The taxi driver confirms this. Apparently Juno had gone down the stairs and opened the front door, realized she'd forgotten her handbag and called back up to Poppy to throw it down after her. Poppy actually came down the stairs with the handbag, the sisters spoke for a moment or two, then Poppy went back up the stairs, Juno closed the front door, and got into the cab and went home.'

‘The taxi driver couldn't have been mistaken? It was Poppy?'

‘The sisters always used the same car firm. The driver knows both women by sight.'

‘How did Poppy get to The Magpie that evening?'

‘She'd brought Juno in her own car, which was parked round the corner.'

‘Right. So after Juno left, Poppy stayed on. She wasn't ready to go home, or she'd have picked up her own handbag from the desk and turned out the office lights. No. She was still working at that point in time and she hadn't finished. As I see it, there are two ways of looking at what happened next. The first is that she had another visitor—'

‘The fraudster?'

‘Possibly. Let's suppose it was. What might have happened next?'

‘An argument, leading to a tussle. Perhaps Poppy asked the person to leave and they refused? Perhaps she pushed them, and they pushed back, causing her to fall down the stairs and die.' Ellie shook her head. ‘I can see that there might have been some sort of argument ending in her falling down the stairs without intent to murder. But then what happens? Does the visitor rush down the stairs to check whether Poppy is still alive or not? Did he or she then panic, step over her to heave the front door open, pull it to behind them and make a getaway undetected? The body would at that point still be easy to move, as rigor mortis wouldn't have had time to set in. I'm half a mind to settle for accident and panic.'

‘Only half a mind?'

‘Yes, because, with a little common sense, a convincing accident could have been staged. Once the visitor had ascertained that Poppy was dead, he or she ought to have gone back up the stairs to shut off the lights in the office and thrown her handbag down beside her. Consider the picture if he'd done that. It was late at night. Poppy was tired. She turned off the lights, picked up her handbag and prepared to leave. At the top of the stairs, she tripped over herself and fell. End of story. Were there any fingerprints apart from Poppy's on the handbag?'

‘No. It was sitting on her desk. There was no evidence of any visitor.'

‘Not Juno?'

‘No. I mean, she had every right to be there. We know she was there earlier. But she didn't leave any trace of herself which ought not to have been there, and we know Poppy was alive when she left.'